


Shirt

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21662785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Frodo comes back from the water.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this

“You have not joined them?” Strider asks, returning to the little fire with a small bundle of sticks and leaves that he sets beside it. He’s taken care not to let the flames grow to high, and Sam’s minded that, sitting just next to what little heat they have and keeping it going, but too low to emit much smoke. It dissipates in the air before it ever reaches the treetops. It might be better to have no fire at all, but it’s necessary against the cold night air. Their little forest groove is calm and quiet, but Sam keeps on ear towards the stream anyway, just in case Frodo should need him. 

Sam answers, “I don’t think I’m needing it quite yet.” That might be a lie—he’s been in sore need of a bath since the night they left. But he’ll have to go when it’s just Merry and Pippin in the stream. If he sees _Frodo bathing_ , he won’t be able to think straight for days. He won’t be able to look poor Frodo in the eye. He’d probably stare and blush and irreparably ruin whatever pleasant relationship they have, so he protects Frodo from himself and waits for another time. 

Strider accepts that. He settles down against the log that Sam’s using as a backrest, just about an arm’s length from each other. Though Strider’s eyes scan the forest floor before them, Sam can tell that he’s also listening to the nearby laughter filtering through the trees. There doesn’t seem to be any trouble yet. They’re still not too far from Bree. Then Sam hears the quiet hush of hobbit footsteps and looks over to find Frodo wandering back to him. 

Frodo’s wrapped up in his cloak, lightly shivering from the late night chill. That and his dark hair hide him in the shadows, but his face is still pale, and sometimes he seems to glow like an elf to Sam—something too pretty and ethereal for their mortal realm. Even just huddled up in a thick blanket, Frodo’s a lovely creature that steals Sam’s breath away. His legs are bare beneath it, and they look a pallid blue—he comes over to kneel by the fire. He explains to them, “I think Merry and Pip’ will be a little longer, and I’ve left my clothes hung up to dry.” He shakes his head, and a few droplets of clear water spring out of it, dotting the rich ground. He laughs, “That was delightful, though. I had been quite missing my bath.” Then his gaze lifts to Sam, and he bids, “You should enjoy it too.”

Sam can feel his cheeks growing warm. Frodo’s said nothing out of the ordinary, but technically, he’s _invited Sam to a bath_ , and of course that would set Sam’s imagination going. He’s grateful when Strider cuts in to change the subject. “You cannot go around like that, Frodo. We may be forced to flee at any moment, and you will need the use of your hands.”

“Then the enemy will see me naked,” Frodo argues easily, making light of it, though his clothing is of grave importance to Sam. “I’m afraid I haven’t got anything else but the wet things I just washed.”

Sam should’ve taken care of that. He should’ve thought to bring spare clothes, though then they would’ve had to lug them around, and his pack’s heavy enough as it is. Still, he can’t have Frodo walking about stark naked—it’s no good for anyone. 

Strider suggests, “Then you shall wear my tunic. I have another with me—that should do until your things have dried.”

“Thank you,” Frodo answers, smiling up and over at Strider for the very thing Sam wanted to do for him. Not that Sam begrudges the offer. He’s grateful for any help that Frodo can have. Strider nods and pushes up to his feet, then wanders over to his horse, while Frodo turns his attention back to Sam. Sam shakily returns his smile and tries not to think about how lovely he looks when his skin is freshly damp and gleaming, his blue eyes wide and perfect. 

Strider returns in only a minute with a bundle of brown fabric. Frodo accepts it with a subtle, “Thank you,” and rises to change.

Of course, Sam averts his eyes. It’s only polite. He turns his gaze down to his lap, picking at his trousers and willing himself not to peek. He can only hope Strider’s doing the same. When the rustling of clothing ends, Sam dares to glance up, and Frodo’s standing there, draped in an enormously oversized top than hangs down him like a dress. It falls right to his knees, the neckline slumping down both shoulders, revealing large swaths of smooth, soft skin, and almost all of his flat chest. The ring’s just barely hidden beneath it. Sam’s chest constricts from just that view: how _cute_ Frodo is in something twice his size.

He looks happy for it nonetheless. He chimes, “Thank you, Strider.” Then he gathers his fallen cloak and walks around the fire, coming to settle down between them, perfectly wedged between those most willing to protect him. He turns his bare feet to the fire and lets out a little sigh, content despite all of his burdens.

Sam dares to wrap an arm around Frodo’s shoulders, rubbing him lightly to warm him up. Frodo smiles and leans his head on Sam’s shoulder. 

It’s already been a trying journey, and Sam knows they’ve only just begun. But Sam’s still _very_ glad he came.


End file.
